


Plan of Attack

by simplifiedemotions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arguing, Birthday Sex, Draco is an idiot, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26547430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplifiedemotions/pseuds/simplifiedemotions
Summary: Draco grovels for his insensitive comment on ageing, unfortunately for Hermione, she loves him.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 144
Collections: Happy Birthday Granger





	Plan of Attack

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Nayrunoai for thinking of a watch Draco would wear. She is as extra as he is. :)
> 
> Shout out to Meggie for making a birthday collection! <3

“Granger,” he tried. 

“No, Malfoy.” Hermione moved away from him, onto the other side of the lab table as he moved closer to her, offense against defence. Draco had been looming over her over the last couple of days since their argument. 

You get bossier with age, Draco teased when she lectured him on working late hours at the DMLE. 

Hermione knew Draco was teasing her, as he’d been looking at her with awe before pulling her into a tight embrace after a long day. But something in Hermione fractured at the thought that maybe she hadn’t done more in her life than being a bossy know-it-all. That the several years of experimental potioneering in her private lab in their home was more a hobby than a vocation for good.

It was irrational, and Hermione always prided herself on the contrary. Yet, she’d felt a heavy burden in the week leading up to her birthday, to another year added onto a life lived long enough to be sage but somehow felt infantile.

She’d pushed Draco away, and ever since then, he’d come groveling to her as if she were sincerely considering divorce. He’d listened to her, shortening his hours before coming home and prying her from her potions lab to eat when she would work her own late hours.

He would then endeavour to entice her with all manner of topics he thought she might find interesting, and she did, but she refused to give him more than stilted answers before retiring to bed.

As such, it seemed Draco’s patience or lack thereof had worn out, hence the frontal attack plan that included him wearing a white button-up shirt rolled up to his forearms, showing his corded veins, and his deliberately tousled hair that he knew Hermione liked to dig her fingers into.

Well, she would not yield, even if her fingers twitched in rebellion.

A long-suffering sigh indicated Draco’s presence next to her. She hadn’t even heard him move, the sleuthing snake. “Granger, we've been married for 15 years, and you’re calling me by my last name, now?”

“Says the one who’s been calling me Granger for decades,” she said dryly.

“Hermione.” 

Her heartbeat sped up. Bastard. 

She felt her whole body tremble at the way he weaponised her name. Looking up, she saw the way his lips quirked in a smirk so much like the young boy she knew, replaced with slight smile lines at his mouth, and the small crinkles in his eyes as he pinned her with his gaze. Amused mostly, but there was a ripple of uncertainty under the silver that satisfied her. 

Draco aged much better than his father had. Hermione had told him so on his fortieth birthday nine months prior, that Pureblood prejudice and fanaticism for a psychopath tended to give a person fine lines. 

“I didn’t mean it.” A direct statement. she appreciated his confidence, at least.

Hermione folded her arms and turned away from him, a juvenile action she didn’t care to shed when in her apparent old age. “Yes, you did.”

“Alright, I did,” he admitted.

She swivelled her head at him, a retort on her tongue combined with both affront at his admittance, and satisfaction at being right that he meant it. But before she could say anything Draco wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her body into his.

She tried pushing him away. “Draco—let go of me!” 

“Sorry, love. But I might actually die if you ignore me any longer.” He picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder, moving out of the lab, and into the hallway, supposedly to their room.

“Draco, let me down," she yelped. "Being my husband does not preclude you from being hexed.”

He pinched her bum, causing her to squeal and buck against him in an effort to get away.

Draco was bigger than her, but she was faster. She just needed to find a weak point and pounce.

As if reading her mind, he gripped her tighter “Granger, I am terrified of you. It’s why I’m in love with you, and why I would much prefer you hex me than ignore me because I made an idiotic comment.” 

She found herself gripping his shirt possessively as her limbs suddenly lost the battle to his words. 

He let out a tired breath. “I don’t deserve it, but I need you to forgive me, Hermione.”

He really was an unfair bastard.

Conceding defeat as he continued walking, Hermione spoke instead. “I know ageing is normal, and I know you meant it as a joke,” she whispered. “But sometimes it feels as if all I’ve surmounted to is this bossy, mothering hen to everybody.”

He stilled. “Granger… I don’t—”

“I know you don’t think of me this way.” She sighed into his neck. I’m just being silly.” 

They made it to the bedroom, something Draco argued should be a neutral zone when they disagreed on something, but Hermione always countered that it was only an excuse for him to distract her when he was clearly in the wrong. She usually wasn’t one to complain, however, since neutrality began with his head between her legs.

He set her down on the edge of the bed before going on his knees, putting them at eye level while he took her face gently in his hands.

His grey eyes gleamed as he stared at her for a moment. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life, and that’s the least interesting thing about you. But if it pleases you I can remind you every day that each time you walk into a room I’m still caught between staring at you in awe because you are the most brilliant person. Regardless of if you’re brewing a potion or reading a book, and wanting to bend you over any available straight surface.”

Hermione smiled. “Straight surface, huh? She tugged the lapels of his shirt so he loomed over her, pulling him onto the bed with her. “Is that why you shoved me into a broom closet during last month’s ministry function, Draco? I only remember a hard shelf on my back.”

He leered at her as he followed, prowling like a predator, but Hermione wasn’t easy prey. She palmed his cock through his trousers before he could gain an advantage. 

He groaned, dropping his head to her neck, hot breath tingling her nerve endings. “Fuck, Hermione.”

After a moment he lifted his head and looked at her, and she was fascinated by the slight wrinkling in the small dimple where his smirk deepened, and the way the setting sun softened his usually sharp features.

“We make do when we must. And you’re the one who wore a backless dress with thin straps during the aforementioned event.”

She bit her lip. “You didn’t seem to mind.” She pulled him down to her, and his arms caught on either side of her head as she kissed him. Slowly.

He hummed in agreement against her mouth, kissing at the same bruising, slow pace before deepening it, nipping at her lower lip. Hermione gasped, opening her mouth to him and sliding her tongue to twine with his. 

The thing about kissing one person for so many years was the fast frenzy of youth turned into a slow, building ache that burned inside you until you shattered. Her favourite part of this accumulation of desire was the feeling it inspired in Draco.

His growing urgency as he took control of the kiss, the way he would tangle one hand in her hair while the other traced tantalisingly down her body, lifting her shirt out of her skirt.

He started unbuttoning her shirt while he slid his palm up, up up her thigh.

“Why are these buttons so small?” he growled against her throat where his mouth peppered kisses, nipping at the spot below her ear that made Hermione moan loudly and clench her thighs against both sides of Draco’s waist.

He was an impatient, spoiled brat, and ripped her shirt open. 

“Draco!” He continued his attack unperturbed, unzipping her skirt from the side before sliding it down her hips and throwing it behind him. 

She ripped his own shirt, repaying the favour of damage in desperation for his skin. He rose again and removed his shirt, looking entirely too smug for her liking.

Draco stared at her for a moment, shirt ripped open, breasts splayed for him because she hadn’t worn a bra. She ran her nails down his chest and he trembled.

His eyes were trained on her face, a look of awe relaxing his features even more, but his eyes were intent. “You really are beautiful,” he said in a rougher voice. 

She blushed at his comment, delivered by sincerity and black eyes as he gave her a lecherous look and got off the bed, unbuckling his belt and taking off his trousers while she got she sat up on her elbows and stared at him.

He arched a dark brow, licking his lips. He looked like he wanted to eat her. “Open your legs for me, Hermione.” 

She moaned, dropping her head back and feeling her cheeks heat as she parted her thighs for him.

The bed dipped as he moved back, and Hermione felt herself shaking with anticipation. Draco’s long fingers traced small circles from her calves to the inside of both knees before he moved up toward the inside of her thighs. 

She felt Draco’s breath near her core, and she couldn’t help pushing her hips towards his face. He stilled her with a hand on her stomach, while the other gently fingered the black lace covering her. 

“I’ve memorised all of you,” he said as he nipped a sensitive part of her skin near the inside of her knee. He started rubbing tight circles around her clit through her knickers, making her even more wet than she already felt. When she tried taking them off he took her hand, kissing her palm and holding it.

He was going to draw this out, and she thought she might scream from the pressure mounting inside of her.

She decided a sneak attack was the best retribution and rose up suddenly, lunging for Draco and tackling him.

“Granger—!” Hermione heard an oomph as she landed on his chest on the floor, arms encircling her waist to keep her steady.

She laughed into his chest. “I might’ve miscalculated my momentum.” 

He laughed with her, “You always disagree with me. But I must insist that after knowing you most of my life that you have absolutely no coordination.”

She kissed down his jaw and throat, scraping her teeth on his collar bone, and causing his hips to buck up against hers. 

“I resent the implication.” She looked up at him and felt spurred by the starved look he gave her.

“I won’t disagree with you on your birthday.”

“You’re doing a pretty bad job so far, love.”

He smiled. “I disagree.”

Hermione burst out laughing, shaking against his chest. Draco laughed with her, one of his hands moving tantalisingly up and down her spine, where the cold silver Patek Phillipe watch she got for his birthday grazed her skin in its movement, causing Hermione to shiver.

“Right, then,” she said, composing herself. Then she levelled him with what she hoped was a no-nonsense look. “Are you going to fuck me, now?”

His eyes gleamed wickedly, grey pushed away by black like a current. 

She rose, fully straddling him as she wordlessly vanished her knickers, and moved her slick heat against his cock. “I think you’re trying to kill me, Granger,” he breathed heavily.

“My secret plan, foiled.” she sunk down onto him, letting him fill her as they both let out breathy moans.

He guided the movement with his hands on her hips, and Hermione gripped his shoulders, shifting right—just right so that her clit bumped against the ridge of his cock.

“Ah—Draco.” She started moving in slow, precise movements that had both of them moaning loudly.

Draco moved both hands up her body, towards her breasts where he played with her nipples, dragging his finger across the sensitive skin until she whined and arched into his hands.

She lowered her face and kissed him lazily, a messy meeting of tongues and years mixed together.

He deepened it, kissing her until she was gasping against his lips. He broke the kiss and Hermione took shuddering breaths as his lips trailed light, worshipping kisses across her skin.

She brought Draco’s lips back to hers, wanting him to be as dizzy as she was. He met her barrage with equal intensity, seemingly content to be trapped in the same haze. 

After all this time, she loved him, yearned for him just the same. 

“Hermione.”

Draco raised his right hand and palmed her jaw, caressing her cheekbone as his other hand still guided their hips. His expression changed, the teasing look shifting into something curious like he was in awe of her. 

That look sent her over the edge. She toppled over him, breathing into his neck while he chased his own pleasure. 

“Fuck—fuck”. He jerked under her. They lay panting, legs twisted together as Hermione rested her head against Draco’s chest, as she traced the scar that lined his shoulder and torso. His breath stirred her hair, and she heard him chuckle.

“You know. Sex really does get better with age.”

“Shut it, Malfoy.”

He took her chin, making her meet his eyes. “Happy Birthday, Hermione.”


End file.
